


Mangy Cat

by VYCanisMajoris



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Cats, Established Winterwidow, F/M, M/M, Mechanic Tony Stark, Multi, Pre Winterironwidow, Tony is basically a cat lady
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-26 01:09:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14390994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VYCanisMajoris/pseuds/VYCanisMajoris
Summary: A small, fat cat sits on the windowsill, carefully licking its paws. A mug lays on the ground below it, shattered on the hardwood floor, and, if he looks closely, he can spot dust from the red, broken mug in the cat’s fur – the stupidlysmugcat’s fur.“Tasha,” Bucky calls, rubbing a hand over his face and hoping it wasn’t the, admittedly, ugly mug that Clint made them, “The stupid thing is back.”





	Mangy Cat

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. They belong to Marvel Entertainment. Any writing is completely fan-made and I make no profit from this writing.

A small, fat cat sits on the windowsill, carefully licking its paws. A mug lays on the ground below it, shattered on the hardwood floor, and, if he looks closely, he can spot dust from the red, broken mug in the cat’s fur – the stupidly _smug_ cat’s fur. 

“Tasha,” Bucky calls, rubbing a hand over his face and hoping it wasn’t the, admittedly, ugly mug that Clint made them, “The stupid thing is back.” 

The cat glances over to Bucky, smugness radiating off of its crooked face. It looks as though it was dropped into a puddle, stepped on, then blown dry with a half-working hairdryer that dispensed both air and dust. 

It is somewhat pitiful to look at, and Bucky would usually treat animals like it in a kinder way, but this cat – or demon, impossible to determine which – has entered their apartment multiple times, breaking something new and more expensive with each visit. Natasha, of course, doesn’t seem to care, since cats are one of the few things, aside from Bucky, ballet, sparring, puns, and sometimes Clint, that she actively enjoys. 

The ugly cat meows, another terrible thing about it, since its voice sounds only slightly worse than gravel and bits of broken glass grinding together. Yet, at the meow, cupboards slam shut as Natasha dashes from the kitchen and into the living room. As expected, she begins to coo and murmur compliments to the horrible beast, sweeping him into her arms and kissing him on his crooked face. He purrs, loudly and mockingly at Bucky. 

“He’s not stupid,” Natasha replies, sending him a sharp, yet also teasing, look. “He’s just clumsy.”

“He’s broken three different mugs and vases in the past week,” Bucky says, exasperated. He gestures to the broken shards on the ground. “He broke the one Clint made!

She and the cat level a flat look at him. “You and I both know that was the ugliest mug in existence and that Clint only gave it to us to see how long it would take us to throw it out.”

“I think he actually thought we’d like it, Tasha – and, that’s not the point! The point is that this stupid cat keeps breaking things and leaving fur everywhere!”

“And so does Lucky, though sometimes that’s mostly Clint.” She pauses, then shrugs and continues whispering apologies for how Bucky is behaving to the fat cat.

“I know,” she coos, walking away from him and into the kitchen with the mass of ragged fur in her arms, “I know, he’s such a _meanie_. I’m sorry about him. Let’s go find you something nice…” She disappears into the kitchen, leaving him by the broken mug that Clint will, most likely, be devastated over. 

Bucky looks at the mug, then the window, then after Natasha, and back to the mug, taking in the steps that led him to this point in his life. He shakes his head and looks for the broom. Maybe he’ll be able to break it to Clint gently. Well, no, probably not. Knowing Clint, he’ll play up the snark to hide his actual disappointment at the mug being broken before making another worse mug for them to replace the previous ugly mug with. 

God, they’re going to have so many terrible pieces of ceramics around the apartment again, just after making Kate take some home and hide them. He thought they were past this, but apparently not. He just hopes Clint doesn’t take up vase-making again. None of the ceramics ended up looking correct. Most resembled crushed soda cans, though a few ended up looking like water bottles and… other things. 

They’ll have to move again, and this time they’ll have to get Kate to stay quiet about their address. 

A sharp, rapid knocking interrupts Bucky’s thinking, and he abandons the broken mug to go to the door. He pauses, weighing the odds of it being the landlord with the weird mole and odd smile that he only flashes when he sees Bucky, then shrugs and opens it. 

A short man stands on the other side, staring up at Bucky with narrowed doe-eyes framed with long lashes. He has an oddly shaped goatee, just eccentric enough to fit in with the wild look in his eyes and his incredibly ruffled head of curls. His clothing, a mechanic's uniform smudged with soot, oil, grease, and other stains that probably aren’t good, hangs off his frame. 

He is somehow the most harried and attractive man Bucky has seen in a long time, just on par with Tasha in prettiness, though nowhere near as devious and smug as she can be. 

Bucky tries to take it all in, especially the cute way the guy gestures as he talks, but is pulled out of his thoughts as the man starts speaking, rapid-fire, saying, “I’ve already talked to three other people, two of whom threatened to take and sell me and one who said that I would make a good house husband when the obviously correct term would be house-spouse because it rhymes, and I am no longer fucking around. Have you seen a grey cat that looks like it was run over by a car made of mud?”

He’s even cuter when he rants, but also frenzied-looking, so Bucky pushes the admiring thoughts to the back of his head and nods, gesturing inside and saying, “My girlfriend is feeding him, if you wanna come in and-”

The guy pushes past him and into the apartment, which Bucky would recognize as somewhat rude if a voice in the back of his head wasn’t saying _Feisty, nice._ and wondering what Tasha will think of the guy. 

“Tasha,” Bucky calls as he shuts the door after the guy, “Found the owner of the little monster!”

The guy pays no attention to him, only stopping his stomping when Tasha appears in the living room, holding the somehow smugger cat in her arms. It lets out a horrible screech, which Bucky suspects is a sound of joy, and tumbles out of her arms and into the arms of the cute, frenzied guy. 

The guy presses the motley cat up to his face, muttering loud enough for them to hear, “Thank god you didn’t get almost eaten this time, Dummy.”

“This time” is confusing, since Bucky can’t imagine a single animal, no matter how hungry, that would like to eat the clump of fur and unidentifiable substances in the guy’s arms, but he says nothing of it. 

Tasha leans around the guy, catching Bucky’s eye with one of her bright, scheming ones. She points to the guy, winks, and makes a thumbs-up. Thank goodness they’re on the same page – it would be awkward if they weren’t. 

After a moment of holding the mass of fur to his face and suffocating himself with broken bits of ceramics and whatever gives the fur such extensive volume, the guy lowers the cat, gives them both a shaky, incredibly awkward smile and says, face reddening with embarrassment, “Sorry about that. I, uh, might have overreacted.”

“It’s fine,” Tasha replies immediately, giving him a rare smile that only adds to the pink of his face, making his skin almost match her fiery hair, “Nothing to be sorry over. I’d be worried too, if I lost this handsome fella,” she adds, reaching out to pet the cat that manages to look like it got the canary, cream, and whatever else was laying around the kitchen. 

“Yeah, he gets out a lot. I fixed all the windows and doors, but he manages to find a way outside my apartment and get into trouble. I, uh,” he pauses, shuffling the cat so it is pressed between one arm and his side, and holds out a hand. “I’m Tony. I live a couple floors up.” 

“Natasha,” she replies, taking his hand and shaking it slowly, letting her smile turn softer and his face even pinker, “And this is Bucky, my boyfriend.” 

Bucky takes his hand next, not willing to be outdone by Tasha as he flashes his most charming smile, the one that made even Sarah Rogers fold when he and Steve got caught after curfew. Tony smiles back shyly, the blush traveling down his neck and under his worn uniform. 

“I – thanks for looking after him and, uh, he didn’t break anything, did he? Dummy tries to be helpful, I think, but he ends up smacking into things. He’s broken like five of my picture frames and a one laptop, though he seemed pretty sorry about it afterward.”

“Just a few mugs,” Bucky shrugs, “Nothing important.”

Tony’s face falls. He gives the cat a warning glare, then says, “I’m so sorry! I should have trained him better, but he’s the clumsiest thing in existence and – I’ll pay for the mugs and what you fed him and whatever else he did and-”

“No need,” Tasha interrupts, reaching out to pet the mangy cat, “His cuteness is enough payment, and so is yours, if you let us take you out.” 

“Out?” He repeats, brown eyes wider and even more adorable. 

“On a date,” she continues, “Preferably without clumsy cats to trip my boyfriend, but we can make do with.”

“Not really,” Bucky mutters, and adds, smiling at Tony again, “It’s the least we can do, after you worried so much. Plus, she likes cats.”

“And cute brunets,” Tasha finishes, giving him another smile. 

He looks between them, eyes incredibly wide and face incredibly pink, before giving a jerky nod and a squeaked out, “Sure!”

Tasha grins, looking equal parts devious and smug, before leading Tony into the living room. Bucky follows, eyeing the mangy cat that looks at him over Tony’s shoulder. Maybe it isn’t _that_ bad, though Clint’s future whining over the broken mug will disagree.


End file.
